


The Monster In Your Head

by NollieBones (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A Bunch of Cussing, A wild plot appeared, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Depression, Detailed Dying, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Innocent Papyrus, Mental Health Issues, Minor Mettaton/Papyrus, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pancakes for everyone, Papyrus Has Healing Powers, Papyrus Needs A Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Please Don't Kill Me, Sans Needs A Hug, Self-Destruction, Sharing a Bed, This may turn into a threeway relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Triggers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NollieBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans' eyes trailed the wounds while he waited for his brother to come. There was so much blood. He noticed the gun lying beside you, now knowing what the pop was. You were going to shoot yourself? After all this? Did you honestly want Sans to kill himself also?</p><p>Papyrus ran into the kitchen and paused, frozen in place at the sight before him. His eyesockets widened as he took in what was happening, finally understanding what the loud noise was. Papyrus inched closer to you, kneeling down and summoning some kind of bright, vermilion sphere.<br/>Sans plucked your Soul from your chest, examining the damage you caused, which only made him cry harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comfortably Numb

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the updated version. It's rated explicit for the violence.
> 
> August 1st is perfect to start a new!! eue
> 
> TW: Self-harm, drug (pill) abuse, guns.

Fed up.

Sick of everything.

Sick of your life.

Sick of the way you feel.

An immense amount of pressure is building on your shoulders and you don't know how to deal with it. You're scared out of your goddamn mind that one day you'll cut too deep or someone will catch you in the act. This pressure is from everything you remember about your childhood; your dad leaving you, your mom essentially abandoning you for some hillbilly fuck that didn't give two shits about you, your grandparents not caring where you were. You had no one to go to about these problems and that's where it all began. You were 8, going on 9 and you'd just been introduced to the man who fucking ruined you. Let's call him "Jim," for identity's sake. Jim took your mom away from you. He snatched your world away and ripped it to shreds. Little tiny fucking shreds.

Shreds of not knowing what was happening at such a young age and shreds of feeling as though no one cared. Your posters and faces in your room became your only company, speaking to them as though they were real. You felt  _nuts._ You felt like all this time alone had destroyed your mind and left you horrified, knowing that you had no ability to communicate properly with the outside world with which you were so fond of. You loved inanimate objects. You spoke to the walls. You attempted to kill yourself so many times and were more than often _almost_ successful. You could never deliver the killing blow for yourself. You were always,  **fucking always** SO close to being dead before Jim came in and ruined it. He always bandaged you up, no matter how much you screamed bloody murder in protest.

Now that you've found these monsters, the weight has been lifted only a little. They take your pain away sometimes, but other times it's just the same shit over and over and over.

**Relapse, relapse, relapse.**

You can't stop. You can't NOT cut. The dismantled pencil sharpener has become your wrist, legs, stomach, shoulders, and chest's best friend. All you are is a big, bloodied, bruised, and mentally damaged bag of scabs. Nobody ever noticed your silent pain. They never asked  _why_ you wore long sleeves or your Slipknot jacket all the time. Sans didn't even notice. Most of the time, he'd just crack jokes about any and everything and you'd just laugh along. Papyrus didn't understand why you fake-laughed sometimes. He'd just figure you had something going on that day. Oh, but little did he know. Undyne and Alphys never once questioned you because you were always so hyper and upbeat, trying to hide all of your pain. You never faltered  _once_ in fooling the four. Frisk was too young to understand, they're only 8. You're so glad that they're not in the situation you are, nor do you ever want them to be. 

It was going to be difficult to cover the wounds now that summer was fast approaching. You couldn't wear the jacket or long sleeves anymore and that terrified you. They had taken the first swim of the summer and asked if you'd like to join, in which you declined. Sans had a sad aura about him when you said no. You despised him like that. You're the only one you want upset or anything negative. You can take it all in - just like you have for 10 years.

There was a pool at Undyne and Alphys' house about a block down from the skele-bros', i.e. where you live. All of the monsters stayed remarkably close to one another despite being warned by Asgore to spread out. Maybe they stayed for you. Maybe they stayed because you're a vulnerable, hopeless entity with a severe mental and physical issue. But they didn't know that so it must be the first answer. It's true for the second reason, you  _are_ all of those things.

See, with Alphys you'd help her overcome her own anxiety and go to cons with no problem. She even worked up the nerve to ask Undyne on a date with the help of you. Why couldn't you do that with yourself? Papyrus, you did the same thing with as far as Mettaton and he go, only to get turned down by the robot, in which you comforted him. Sans didn't need much help with anything other than venting. He'd stay up all night with you and watch your favorite movies while spilling his thoughts and worries to you. He would lay his skull on your thighs, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Little to his knowledge, making your legs sting like all hell. He described the Genocide Run so vividly that you could relate about your mother being ripped from you at such a delicate age, almost like Papyrus was torn away from Sans. It hurt your heart when he would weep into your chest, murmuring unintelligible noises about blood and a knife then the kid having absolutely no remorse.

You couldn't talk your own self out of depression or attempting to kill yourself or cutting. It always just... happened with hardly a memory. It would be late at night while Sans would be asleep and Papyrus would be playing with his action figures in his room. You'd crawl out of Sans' arms, creep down the hall, and down the stairs to the kitchen. Then you'd take out whatever knife or sharp object you could get your hands on and commit to the violence.

 _ **"One**_ _ **."**_ You told yourself.

There was one, It wasn't deep enough.

Two, it wasn't aligned with one.

Three, it aligned too much with two.

Four, too little blood.

Fifteen, too much blood.

Thirty, down to your legs.

Sixty, move to your stomach.

Eighty, you were aching but alive and you hated it.

One hundred, the blood was overflowing now, too much too soon. The scars would leave crude wounds but they were  _oh so worth it._

That the night Sans found you, sprawled out on the kitchen floor with knives, razors, a gun, and pills in your hands, sobbing about how much you hated your past. Hated your life. Hated the fact that no one gave a single  _ **fuck**_ that you would die. A malignant grin spread on your face as you laughed through the tears. You kept cutting, you didn't give a shit anymore. Blood was everywhere in the tile floor. Sure, you regretted getting fluids on the floor but did you regret anything else? Nope. Not the first bit. You were noxious now. The wounds traveled from your ankles to just barely below your waist. You'd tore your arms, shoulders, chest, and stomach to pieces and you were running out of room, not to mention severing your old scars even worse. Your eyes darted toward the pills in your hand as you threw the razor on the floor. You had no clue what they did, what they were, or who they belonged to. You just knew you refused to fight this battle any longer.

A noise came from upstairs after you downed them, paralyzing you with heavy dread. Had Sans noticed you were gone? You heard him call your name sleepily and innocent, filling you with great agony. You didn't want to see his reaction. You wanted to just disappear like he could do, escape a goddamn situation at the blink of an eye. 

You pressed the gun to your temple with a shaking hand, trying your best not to make sounds. Your chest heaved as you silently cried, hooking your finger around the trigger and cocking the weapon.

"______?" His voice was getting closer. You couldn't breathe, the pills you took were doing wonders for your body and not in the good way. The gun fell to the floor with a loud _pop_ as it fired a bullet through the wall beside the trashcan. You began to choke on your own saliva,  ruthlessly coughing up blood and acid from your stomach. The cuts were pouring from every limb and inch of your body you covered. You sat puddled in your own body fluids and vomit, slowly being drained of life.

You heard a loud gasp then Sans screech Papyrus' name as you started to teeter into consciousness, " **PAPYRUS!!** " Sans's fingers tried to touch you but everything hurt. His eyes were flooded with tears, stinging the wounds on your chest as he hovered over your colorless body. Blood flow slowed down. Exsanguination was taking it's toll on your corpse.

Your skin was clammy, your eyes were hazy, your breathing became shallow, and you were becoming acutely aware that this is exactly what you wanted to happen - minus Sans and Papyrus. You closed your agape jaw and smiled, hoping Sans wouldn't notice. Your tongue felt raw and dry, as if you chomped down on it and hadn't drank in days. Think of it like when you stick your tongue out your mouth and it begins to lose it's moisture from being exposed to the air, except there's a blow dryer in your face.

Sans' eyes trailed the wounds while he waited for his brother to come. There was so much blood. He noticed the gun lying beside you, now knowing what the pop was. You were going to shoot yourself? After all this? Did you honestly  _want_ Sans to kill himself also? For Papyrus to find....?

Papyrus ran into the kitchen and slammed on the brakes, frozen in place at the sight before him. His eyesockets widened as he took in what was happening, finally understanding what the loud noise was. Papyrus inched closer to you, kneeling down and summoning some kind of bright, vermilion sphere. Sans plucked your Soul from your chest, examining the damage you caused, which only made him cry harder. The once lively jade heart has now faded to an ugly shade of pale green with grey swirling inside. There were massive cracks in the fragile Soul.

"Sans... I don't think she'll-" The younger brother spoke quietly as he held the sphere above your chest. You felt a warmth wash over you when Papyrus, you assumed and correctly, gently shoved the blood orange ball into you. The pain stopped.

"SHE HAS TO!!" He screamed, sweeping your lifeless body up in his arms and holding you tight after reconnecting your Soul with it's rightful owner.

You felt life breathe into you again after you'd been so close to finally being released. Your body felt comfortably numb, your mind relaxed, your muscles softened. You felt like your bones melted away and now all you are is a pile of jello.

Fuck.


	2. I'm Not Okay  (I Promise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headaches, pancakes, and crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of angst but all in all fluffy.  
> The ending of this chapter will make you cry. Trust me.
> 
> TW: Referenced self harm, past verbal abuse with parents.

Your eyes slowly open to a pirate-like flag with a skull and crossbones, a small table with robot action figures aligned in a specific manner, and a small skeleton hugging your waist very tight. The sensation, strangely enough, doesn't hurt. You remember last night well and know what the skeletons saw. Your gig is up - you've got to get help.

Your head is killing you, possibly from the frantic crying and violent retching you did.

You smell something coming from the kitchen and notice you haven't ate since yesterday morning. It smells like pancakes?

The skeleton holding you nuzzles the crook of your neck and pulls you closer to his ribs.

"do you feel better?" A low rumble in his chest vibrates through you. You're unsure if you really are okay or you're still numb. Whatever Papyrus did last night to your chest is doing wonders for your being.

Your eyes shift to his arms wrapped around your naked body, save for underwear. Right now, that's the only piece of clothing you can wear that doesn't threaten to rub the cuts. You realize you didn't respond when he lifts his head kisses your cheek, "Y-yes... I do. I'm not sure if Papyrus's magic is making my body feel like this or if I'm really okay." Same thing you questioned yourself.

"it's probably a little bit of both. you, uh, really did a number on yourself last night." His voice was still low, if not lower than normal. It's barely above a whisper.

"HUMAN... ARE YOU OKAY TODAY?" Papyrus asked, standing in the doorway of his room. Oh. That's why it looked familiar. Now you see the racecar bed you're laying on and everything clicks.

You nod and muffle an approval.

"I FIXED YOUR FAVORITE FOOD!! MAYBE NUTRITION WILL HELP YOU!!" You chuckled and attempted to sit up with Sans guiding you. Both brothers had bags under their eyes and tear-stains on their cheekbones. Poor things must have stayed up all night to make sure you'd survive.

 

\--

 

The pancakes were better than you thought they'd be. Ever since monsters came to the surface, Papyrus has been taking cooking lessons at a monster-friendly restaurant. You have to admit, you almost miss the skeleton sprinkles he topped on his spaghetti. 

Mettaton is on the television answering questions from Kelly Rippa about the Underground and how his 'stardom' came to be. He answers with, 'I was built this way, darling.'

Papyrus stares at his boyfriend with lights in his sockets, smiling so wide you think his jaw will unhinge. Sans clears his nonexistent throat to stray Pap's attention away from the "overgrown calculator."

He must want to talk about last night. You're not ready for this. You don't want to make them cry again because you know that's what will happen. Once you mention that you purposefully did all the damage with the intent to kill, both skeletons will most likely burst into tears.

Papyrus looks toward your direction as the show goes to a commercial, setting his plate on the coffee table. You're sitting in Sans' lap cross legged with one of his arms hooked around you. Sans turns the TV off, much to Papyrus' dismay.

"we need to talk about what happened and how we can stop it from happening again." Sans says. You flinch at his tone but he probably didn't mean it the way you think he did. Hopefully he isn't angry.

"I... where do I begin?" You let you a defeated sigh. This moment was going to happen eventually so why not just get it over with? You crawl to the space between the brothers, fumbling with your hands as you begin your story.

You tell them how you grew up, what happened when you were 9, how Jim treated you, your triggers, how your depression can spark at any moment, the voices you often encounter, and how you ended up cutting for the first time. Everything up to now. It takes you 3 hours to finish but they never move or interrupt your thoughts. Your chest heaves as you come to the events of last night, telling them that you intended on ending it all. Your thumb absentmindedly runs over a scar on your left wrist as you continue to pour your heart out. The weight on your shoulders you've held for 10 years feels like it's slowly being lifted, but only enough to notice. You hadn't even taken note of Papyrus tearing up or Sans turning to face you. You don't exactly know how to stop now. The thoughts keep coming until night eventually falls and you have your head on Papyrus’ shoulder. Your voice goes silent after the 5th hour.

"IS IT OKAY TO SPEAK NOW?" Papyrus runs his phalanges through your hair then massages your scalp. You nod, smiling at his gentleness. 

"_______, CAN YOU EXPLAIN  _WHY_ YOU HARM YOURSELF? WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU GET OUT OF IT?" The question leaves you grabbing for answers. The best thing you can come up with is 'to know I'm alive' but hearing your mind say it is redundant. It's an excuse to keep cutting and wallowing in your pity. You stare at the coffee table then your eyes shift to the reflection in the television. You can see yourself leaning on Papyrus while Sans kisses the scars on your shin. Why the hell do you even cut? Your past is only that - the past. You can't go back and change it but you do have to live with your mistakes, however large or small they may be. 

"I don't have an answer. There's no reason to," You realize.

"and?" Sans quietly pushes you to understand the severity of your situation.

"And if I accidentally cut too deep I'd... it would hurt everyone. People would blame themselves for my mishap. It might even cause a chain reaction..."

"good girl," Sans coos, taking your trembling hands in his. "now i hate making promises but this one is needs to be made. ______, i want you to promise not to scare the shit out of us again or do something stupid like you did." He squeezes your hands and looks into your eyes intently, waiting for an answer.

"I'll try my hardest to say I won't, Sans but I can't promise not to relapse. Think back to when you were a violent alcoholic, it wasn't easy for you to stop. You relapsed multiple times but... you eventually stopped. And so will I." Your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, causing you to break off into a crying fit.

Papyrus hugged you to his side and nuzzled into your hair, whispering for the first time since you met him, "It'll be okay, I promise. We're all here for you, alright?" He took a finger and lifted your chin to face him, continuing. "Nothing is going to happen to you while you're with us. Sans and I love you."

And with that you were a mess of tears and unintelligible whining, hugging the younger brother with everything you had left inside you. Sans scooped your lower half up into his lap as he planted down next to Papyrus. You were squished between the skeletons while you cried, every so often whispering uplifting things to you.

You ignored the fire on your skin where the cuts were and your roaring headache that came back. You just wanted to feel loved right now. And you were.

They were right, you had no reason to cut.

Now is where the hard part comes in - recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pumping two chapters out for lack of updating this. I promise I'll finish this.  
> My tumblr is now nollie-sin-draws.tumblr.com :)  
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos, bookmark, share with your grandma or friends! It fills me with determination!!
> 
> I hope you all have a good day. Stay safe. Papyrus, Sans, and I love you.


	3. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More "Touch Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find out that your feelings for Papyrus may venture far from just friends and Sans has a minor case of jealousy.  
> Bad puns.  
> Cuts are healing.  
> The norm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disgusting amounts of fluff. There's not a whole bunch of progress in this and I apologize. I promise this will all make sense!  
> Eventually. *narrows eyes* > . >
> 
> TW: Past abuse, panic attacks, PTSD, scents.

 

A week has passed and you feel better than ever - fresher, newborn. The scars are healing well despite you picking the scabs. The skeletons have been by your side through everything so far, every so often taking leave from work to make sure you're okay. Papyrus, being the worry wart he is, checked on you far more than he needed to. It was irritating but you appreciated it.

You actually enjoyed your time alone eating pasta Pap cooked for you before he left and planting yourself in front of the television to watch some stupid show on Netflix. Through depression, you learned that you  _needed_ someone there for you - not a platonic relationship, a real one. You need something true and strong. Something that can withstand your mood swings and calm you at your angriest. Someone who can make you smile like no one else can. Someone you can be your true self around without fear of judgement.

Someone like....

No.

No!

You don't want that to happen.

 

\--

 

"HUMAN! I REQUEST WE GO ON A DATE!" You still as Papyrus bounds through the front door, nearly knocking the coat hanger over in his hurry to get to you. Your face flushes and you watch his do the same. "W-WITH SANS, I MEAN. A DINNER DATE!!" He scoops you up in his arms and hugs you tightly.

"That is if I live that long-" Pap squeezed you unknowingly, cutting off most of your air circulation. He had that face on him. That adorable puppy dog face that made your heart melt.

"WHA...WHAT?" He asked, almost on the brink of tears.

Bad joke.

You did a bad.

Be ashamed of yourself.

"No! That's not what I meant!! Ohmygod Papyrus, honey, come here." You kissed between his eyes, earning an excited squeal from him.

 Lesson learned; don't joke about dying after you almost died from trying to kill yourself.

\--

 

"havin' fun without me, eh?" Sans eyed the two of you on the couch. Per request, you and Pap were watching 'Cake Wars' in your pajamas while you waited for Sans to get home. Papyrus had his arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to the seat beside him. He wasn't that kind of guy - skeleton - he only enjoyed your company.

"BROTHER! I HAVE A PROPOSITION FOR ALL THREE OF US! WE SHOULD GO OUT TO EAT!! MAYBE ______ WILL BENEFIT FROM THE FUN OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE!" Again, he squeezed you and you gave him a warning glare as he quietly apologized.

"what does she think 'bout it?"

You told the stocky skeleton you didn't mind whatsoever. As long as you were in the company of trusted friends, it didn't matter.

 

_Two hours later...._

 

"SANS!!!! OH MY GOD, GET YOURSELF DOWN HERE!!!" Papyrus screamed. He was wearing a suit, but not just any suit. It was made of pleather, you noticed. The seams keeping the fabric together were dirty white while the suit itself was a dark grey with black, vertical lines. The clothing fit snug against his bones and was that... a pasta tie? Oh my god. It was definitely Papyrus.

You were dressed more casually. A black tank top with a skull on the front, black skeleton leggings, black creeper shoes with small bones on the side, dangling bat earrings, and a small rib necklace in the shape of a heart with your hair up in a messy bun. You looked snazzy, if you must say so yourself. What you weren't sure of were the scars you knew people would stare at, not to mention walking in with two "living" skeletons.

Papyrus couldn't take his sockets off of you the minute he saw you. His eyes were transfixed on your accessories and clothing choice.

"YOU LOOK QUITE NICE..." Pap's phalanges touched your upper arm gently, grazing over your shoulder as he felt for your clavicle. His fingers fell onto the necklace as he tried to not look down your shirt, nor stare at the pink lines on your skin. He was awfully curious what those lumps were on your chest. Were they the awful tumors he heard about? Were they for protection like his battle body? Male humans didn't have them!

"So do you, big bones." His cheeks lit up a pale orange as he played with the chain and fingered the ribs. What a strange creature you must be to him.

"ready? pap-" Sans' words caught in his throat when he saw his brother staring at your chest. His eyes trailed off to the wounds  on your upper arm once again while you and Papyrus stood in the kitchen. Memories came back to when he first saw you on the floor - bleeding out profusely with your own vomit and saliva choking you. The... the gun was the worst part. What if you chose to use that first and he never got a chance to say goodbye? What if-

"SANS." He snapped out of his daydream, shaking his skull and wiping away tears he didn't know had shed. "WE ARE LEAVING WITH OR WITHOUT YOU. BUT FIRST, I MUST PUT ON MTT BRAND CUTE JUICE!"

"more cologne?"

Papyrus was already gone. It was just you and Sans now.

"did i interrupt somethin'?" The shorter skeleton asked quietly, attempting and failing to hide in his hoodie. Dammit, this one is too small. He watched the way the skull on your tank top moved as you did. It memorized him before you chuckled and declined the question. Papyrus was only interested in the necklace.

Besides, your mind was in no shape to deal with a relationship right now.

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM BACK FROM SPRAYING SMELL GOOD STUFF!!" You chuckled lightheartedly at his enthusiasm to get you out until....

The smell.

The  _smell._

Jim.

Your mind went into overdrive as you scrambled to the other side of the room, frantically trying to get away from who you thought was Jim.

It was a lemony-cherry smell like Jim's, except less strong.

"G-Get away from me!!" The skeleton's eyes darted to you, a worried look creeping across their faces. You started gasping for air as wet, hot tears streamed your cheeks. You coward in the corner, trying to convince yourself that it was only a dream. You lived with Papyrus and Sans! Unless  _that_ had been a dream. Maybe you hallucinated the monsters to drive yourself away from insanity. Did you not escape from Jim? Was your mother still with him? Your mom-

"WHERE IS MY MOTHER?!?!" You screamed at Papyrus, who was standing there not knowing what to do. Sans didn't either. Both were dumbfounded by this sight. Your makeup you spent an hour on is now smeared and all over your face.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE????!" You screeched in a panic, causing some of your scars to reopen from the movement and the fact that you kept scraping your arms on everything. Papyrus ran to your side and grabbed your cheeks, willing you to look at him. You squirmed, unable to break free from the strong grip.

"______, LISTEN!! THIS IS PAPYRUS. JIM ISN'T HERE, NEITHER IS YOUR MOTHER. SHE IS AT HOME. SHE'S OKAY. IT'S OKAY..." He placed your shaking hand on his tie, forcing your eyes to look down. You didn't want to but you did, blinking a few times before coming to your senses. You forgot to tell them about scents when you confessed your triggers... dammit. You ruined everything. You began to cry again, but this time for a different reason. Burying your face into his sternum, you held onto him, unwilling to let go until you felt safe again.

 Papyrus quietly hushed you as Sans stared at the floor, seemingly thinking about a number of things.

\--

 

You all had pizza take out.

"well i'm gonna go hit the hay. ______, are you coming with me or sleeping with pap?" You felt a pang of guilt run through you at Sans' expression. He wanted you to go with him. He loved feeling your skin against his bones; so warm and soft. You shook your head.

"'kay. you looked  _pasta-ti_ vely  _ravishing_ tonight, doll."

You stared back at him with a look in your eye as Papyrus growled.

"Really, Sans? Two puns at once?"

"what can i say? i'm  _sans-_ sational."

"GO TO BED!!!!" You and Papyrus yelled, causing Sans to _jump out his skin._ Oh god you're making puns in your head. Stop it, stop it right now.

 

\--

 

2 o'clock.

You and Papyrus finally decided to go to bed. He wraps you up in his arms as you face each other. You nuzzle his clavicle and inhale his scent - his bones smell like chalk with a faint hint of all of the cologne he wore today. He's got some blue duck pajama bottoms he wore earlier on and nothing else. His bare bones are smooth are *cool* to the touch. You hear him inhale against your scalp, taking in your scent and embedding it into his memory in case he ever loses you.

He has his bunny nightlight on and you can see the outline and some detail in his face. There's a hint of orange pinpricks looking down at you in his sockets. You've never noticed the tiny light before, nor have you been this close to his face. Your nose is barely brushing his nasal cavity. The sensation to poke your nose inside is a little strange, if not borderline creepy and you decide against it. It's nice being able to finally relax in someone's arms and not be afraid every waking hour.

"IS THERE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT?" Your mind must have been wandering - you were staring at his nonexistent nose with your brows furrowed. You quietly reply with a 'no' and bury your face into his ribs, smiling to yourself. Little does he know...

"I'm fine, I promise. Goodnight, big bones."

Papyrus presses his teeth to the crown of your head then rests his chin against it. He places one hand on your love handles and the other arm is hooked around your back. Your legs are twined and you grin so large that the muscles in your face hurt.

"GOODNIGHT, ______."

You could tell he was smiling, more than he usually does. There's so much you have to think about.

 

 

 

 

 

_What the fuck are you doing?_

 

_You know you can't handle this._

 

_You need to heal first._

 

_You're so stupid._

 

_You should have died._

**_Y o u    d o n ' t    d e s e r v e   t h i s._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is nollie-sin-draws.  
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos, bookmark, share with your grandma or friends! it fills me with determination.
> 
> Stay safe. Papyrus, Sans, and I love you.
> 
> *pun. because pap is cool? get it? YOU'RE SUPPOSE TO LAUGH.*


End file.
